Chapter 4 As we slip out into the hallway, the emergency lights have replaced the usual fluorescent ones. Dull, red glow cast over everything. It makes the green tile look like it's sucking up all the ambient light, so that it's not just dark, it's darker than dark. We're walking on a night sky. The sounds are strange, too. I'm used to this place buzzing and beeping, groaning and shaking. Now, though, it's eerily quiet. When Luka's sneaker drags over a patch of wet tile and squeaks, I nearly jump out of my skin. As we near the corner, Kovan holds up his hand, making a closed fist in the air. I've seen enough war movies to know that that means stay right the fuck where you are. I freeze, full-on deer in the headlights. The seconds tick by. I think I hear a sound. A muffled gasp? A pained breath? The sound of a human being on the brink of becoming a cadaver? I place my hand on Luka's shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He glances up at me. His grey eyes don't betray the slightest hint of fear. I don't quite know if that's heartwarming or horrifying. I'll admit, Kovan is the kind of man that makes you think superhumans truly do exist. But everyone-even superheroes-have their weaknesses. The rippling scar shining red on his throat proves that much. Just when I'm starting to think we're never going to move again, that we're going to put down roots and stay in this humid corner of the hospital hallway for the rest of our lives, I hear a rustling sound. Instinctively, I grab Luka and push him behind me just as Kovan rounds the corner with his gun raised. Then comes a shriek, high-pitched and terrified. I jerk around the corner behind Kovan, who's looking Mrs. Moore dead in the face down the barrel of his gun. She's cowering against the wall, trembling like a leaf as she shields her face with her arms. "P-please... d-d-don't kill me... I have c-children...!" I'm about to assure her that she's safe, but Kovan beats me to the punch. "It's okay, ma'am," he says gently, lowering his weapon to his side. "I mean you no harm." She inhales shakily, but she still has her hands plastered over her face like that'll save her from bullets. She says nothing. Kovan straightens up. "Did you see anyone?" "N-no..." She points to the door just behind her. "My d-daughter is in there sleeping. Thank God, she slept through this nightmare. I came out here to see if the coast was clear." "Go back in," Kovan instructs her. "Barricade the door. Don't come out until 911 gets here. Do you understand?" She nods, still quivering. Then, to my surprise, he reaches out and carefully, tenderly, pulls Mrs. Moore's wrist away from her face. He hauls her to her feet with the same care, then gives her a tiny push toward the door. "Everything's going to be alright, ma'am. You and your daughter will be alright. I swear it." She looks at me without looking at me. Her eyes show no signs of recognition, like we've never met before in our lives. Then she looks back at Kovan, offers him the tiniest of grateful nods, and retreats back into her daughter's room. We hear the door lock, then the groan of furniture being moved into place. I want to tell him something. Thank you is what's rising to my lips, though heaven only knows what I'm thanking him for. Who are you is second on the list, because every time I think I have a handle on the man, he proves that I haven't even begun to scratch the surface. He's gone from Angry Dad to Rambo to Gentle Uncle to Superman in a half-hour span. I can't even begin to imagine what transformations he has in store next. He meets my gaze. His face is calmer than it was a moment ago, like reassuring Mrs. Moore gave him some measure of peace, too. As our eyes lock, something surges between us. It's not quite chemical and it's not quite electrical. It's more like the first warm glow of a sunrise breaking over a previously dark horizon. Felt more than seen. I open my mouth. But before I can decide what to say, his brow furrows down and all semblance of peace goes whooshing away into the ether. He reaches out, loops that huge hand around the back of my neck, and tosses me behind him like I'm weightless. "What the⁠-" POP-POP-POP-POP-POP. Five gunshots, one right after the next, rip through whatever moment of connection I thought Kovan and I were experiencing. It's bizarre to me how gunshots can seem so phony and so awfully real at the same time. My hand flies out to snare Luka's on my way down. I fall to my ass with an ungainly oof and he lands in my lap. I embrace him protectively, instinctively. Above us, Kovan rounds the corner with his gun held high. I can only see him at first. Then, with the strobing red glare of an emergency light, I see three grotesquely distorted shadows reaching down the hallway toward him. Long, thin, bristling gun tips emerge from the shadows' edges. Three bad men against one-well, I still don't know if we can call Kovan a "good" man, but he's better than the others as far as my own skin is concerned. He rumbles something to the others in a language I don't understand. Russian? Ukrainian? Whatever it is, every syllable sounds like his name, sharp and violent and crackling. These goosebumps are gonna be with me for the rest of my life, I'm afraid. I hear a cruel laugh blast off in response to Kovan. I take it negotiations didn't go well. Then the gunfire resumes. Does it happen fast or does it take an eternity? I'm not sure. All I know is that I'm squeezing Luka, my eyes are shut, and the gunfire is so, so loud. It's all booms and clacks and the tinny explosion of tiles erupting as a bullet reduces them to flying shards. Then, almost as soon as it started, it's all over. At least, I think it is. Kovan edges forward and disappears fully around the corner, though his shadow stretches out behind him. The other three shadows have all vanished. Luka wriggles out of my lap and belly-crawls forward to look after his uncle. Reluctantly, I go with him, and together, we peer out down the long, red-lit hallway. It's just Kovan, huge and still, surveying the trio of bodies at his feet. When the strobe light sweeps over them, I see the men's blood running in rivulets down the tile grouting. Is it... Is it safe? I don't dare ask that aloud. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, et cetera, et cetera. But as the seconds tick past and no new killers emerge, I'm starting to think it's okay to breathe. Until- "Kovan, watch out!" He spins around as the ER room doors burst open and two new figures stride in, guns raised. I'm screaming so loud that my own voice is all I can hear. It's only when I see Kovan's face finally split into a grin that I realize I've misread the situation. He tucks his gun away and he and one of the men clasp hands. At my side, Luka pushes aside my hand where it's clamped on his hip, leaps to his feet, and goes sprinting toward the new entrants. He plows headlong into a hug around the first man's waist, and all of them chuckle. "Missed me, eh?" the man asks, ruffling Luka's hair. "You gave us all a hell of a scare, malysh. Did you just get sick of breathing, or what?" I struggle up and go inching toward the cluster of men. I stop a few feet away, unsure if I'm intruding, if I'm about to plunge into a much worse situation, or if this is something I can't even wrap my head around yet. "I take it you all are 'backup'?" I ask cautiously. Kovan nods. "Which means the police won't be far behind." "I'm guessing you're not going to stick around to talk to them." His lips twitch. Almost a smile. "Correct." My heart does a weird, mournful double-clutch. So this is it. One of the most insane experiences of my life is almost done. The police I wished for will arrive, they'll ask what happened, I'll answer honestly that I really don't have any clue, and then these men, these enigmas, this gray-eyed little boy with maturity beyond his years... they'll all just fade away. And a few years from now, I'll be left to wonder if I dreamed the whole thing up. "So, you're just gonna... go?" I cringe at how pathetic I sound. His grin takes on a strange kind of edge. "I am," he agrees. Then he points the gun in his hand at my belly. "After you." Cold, metal-handed fear grabs a hold of me immediately. "Wh-what?" is all I can stammer out. "You've seen and heard a little too much for my liking. So, until I'm confident you won't be a problem for me, I'll keep you where I can see you." He edges closer and I feel his hand come to rest on the small of my back. "Start walking, Doctor. You're coming with me." I guess it's true what they say: Be careful what you wish for... You just might get it.